


See You Later

by Foxskip



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Depression, DustinChecksOut, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, It's not that time yet ya feel, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers they don't get together in this sorry, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxskip/pseuds/Foxskip
Summary: It was time to grow up.A story about Chuck retiring and then never actually retiring.
Relationships: Orange Cassidy/Chuck Taylor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 12





	1. On the Bed I Lie

Another stressful day of nothing had gone by and Chuck couldn’t sleep. No emails. No bookings. No meaningful social interaction. He lied on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the sounds of distant cars driving through the city. He probably should’ve talked to Orange more when he got back from work today, but Chuck was absorbed in playing Bloodborne. Now his brain was buzzing with way too many thoughts he had, until this point, numbed with distractions. Chuck reached for his phone and lit up the lock screen. 4:18 AM. Orange was probably asleep like a normal person, what a loser.

Chuck put his phone back down.

What the hell was he doing with his life?

All his friends were going places. Surpassing him. Ricochet became the best high flyer in the world. Kenny won a belt in Japan. Trent left him for Japan. Maybe he’ll finally just rip the band aid off and betray him next time he’s in America. At least then Chuck could feel justifiably angry at him…. 

_Would_ he feel angry at him? He probably deserved it anyway. Sometimes he did feel angry at Trent, for being another person who left Chuck behind, but he was mostly angry at himself. Trent was an amazing wrestler who deserved these opportunities, who the hell was Chuck to hold him back? Chuck’s mouth twisted into a deeper frown. He kinda wanted to cry. His eyes remained on the ceiling.

He turned onto his side. He should try sleeping. Get some kind of a start in the morning so he could do… something. He closed his eyes and began trying to sleep.

He was trying to sleep.

Trying to sleep.

Trying to sleep.…

…

He thought about people. He thought about the girls who were too good for him. He thought about Orange in the other bedroom. His soft blond hair on the pillow and stupid perfect chest rising as he snored. Aw shit. Sometimes he thought about guys too similarly to how he thought about girls. Chuck may have kissed 14 guys in the ring and counting, but those were all accidents and jokes. All for laughs. Man, isn’t gay shit funny?... It didn’t feel as funny right now. There were those times after matches, when Orange was still living in Hoboken and Chuck slept on his couch, when they couldn’t get any girls and Orange, all drunk and giggly, would kiss him between dumb jokes they shared and rest his head on Chuck’s lap as they watched TV. Those were just jokes too, right? Bill did shit like that all the time.

Chuck was starting to feel like one big joke that went on too long. Good ole washed up comedy guy Chuck Taylor, the wrestler people only cared about because he screamed at children and threw grenades however many years ago. No wonder none of the bigger promotions wanted him. The WWE rejection still stung, but he couldn’t even say he was surprised.

Fuck. He needed to stop masochistically kicking himself in the brain like this. He knew it annoyed everyone around him when he couldn’t shut himself up and exposed everything wrong with him like some gaping, festering wound, forcing everyone to look at his gross insides. They must be sick of it. He sure as hell was. If nothing right was going on then it was time to face the facts and do something about it. He was turning 30 next year, is this really what he wanted the rest of his life to be like? When was the last time the pain and exhaustion felt worth it? That he was excited by what he was doing?

It was time to be real with himself. Leave “Chuck Taylor” and childhood dreams behind and accept that he was just Dustin.

He wasn’t wanted. He wasn’t good enough. It was time to check out.

So, he opened twitter, typed out a message, hit send, and put his phone on silent.

> Hi I'm planning on retiring soon so if you want me to ever wrestle in your place you better email me soon. chucktaylorwrestling at gmail

Right before attempting sleep again he at least had the intuition to send a text to Greg too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Chuck not realizing he is also super handsy with his tag team partners.
> 
> I hope it's not too weird that I've switched out the names at the end for ~dramatic purposes~.
> 
> Also disclaimer I love it when wrestlers kiss in the ring don't stop doing it boys.
> 
> Chapter title is from "Molasses" by Rav.


	2. Out of Reach

The room was starting to become tinted with blue light as the sun began peaking over the horizon, and Dustin realized his head might be throbbing because he hadn’t really eaten the previous day. Well, he had some candy and a beer. Yesterday wasn’t a work out day so like whatever, right? 

Ugh, he knew if Orange or Greg found out they would be super on his case about it. Listen, it wasn’t his fault that sometimes he ate way more than he should and then didn’t feel like eating at all.

Okay maybe that was his fault. It’s not like his body ever looked how he wanted it to anyway.

Dustin sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position. Looks like he wasn’t sleeping that night after all. Frankly the humid summer air was making him feel like he was going to melt into his bed. Maybe he needed some fresh air too.

He gulped down a swig of water from his bedside, pushed himself out of bed, and put on a fresh shirt and some shorts as he grabbed a headband from the dresser. It was bright green, one of the ones Greg had given him. They hadn’t talked much lately but Dustin recalled he had a match with Rocky somewhere in Japan the next day. Maybe he was on a bus right now, waiting to get to wherever he needed to be. The solemn realization that Dustin would never be able to catch that bus found its way in the back of his mind. He pushed the thought down and slipped the headband into his unruly hair, sure that the person working at Wawa wasn’t going to care what he looked like at 5 something AM. He slid on some flip flops at the front door and quietly shut it behind him.

* * *

After grabbing a couple sandwiches (maybe Orange would want one later), Dustin’s feet led him to a bench in the middle of an empty dog park. Sunlight gradually inched over the horizon, and he could still hear some distant cars as well as the chirping of some newly awoken birds, but it felt more quiet than anywhere he has been in weeks.

There’s a certain clarity that sometimes comes with sleep deprivation. Finally getting something in his stomach in the form of this delicious sandwich also helped though. Maybe he should be panicking more about suddenly announcing he’s going to retire from wrestling in the middle of the night, but all Dustin felt was a serene calm he couldn’t remember feeling in a long time, like his head finally lifted up through dark, all encompassing waters. The shore was right there; he wasn’t drowning anymore.

He took another bite and stretched his legs out further into the grass, eyes drawn to the dandelions that dotted the green vegetation like stars. Some still contained bright yellow petals that were just beginning to open with the rising sun, but many had already become white puffballs of seeds, balanced precariously on the flower head. A simple breeze could blow them all away, but as of now they stood still.

Maybe tethering himself to childhood dreams for so long hadn’t been a good idea. To be honest, he couldn’t even recall the last time those hopes and dreams felt at all tangible. He did however remember making wishes with the dandelions by his house as a kid, his mom demonstrating for him, telling him that his dreams were possible. He would take a breath as deep as little kid lungs would let him and make his wish as he watched all the seeds scatter into the air. It really did feel real back then. Thinking about it though, he found it kind of ironic that all the things people make wishes on: dandelion seeds, birthday candles, shooting stars, they all disappear as soon as you make them. Even dreams, the literal ones, faded away after you woke up. Maybe wishes and dreams just aren’t meant to be held onto.

Statistically speaking, most people never achieved their dreams anyway, why would he be different?

Dustin shook his head and finished off the rest of his sandwich, wiping his hands on a napkin. The sun finally climbed over the horizon, bathing the whole park in bright yellow light and forcing Dustin to squint his eyes and look back down at the bench. Yeah, it was time to get going.

He took his time on the walk back. Even if it was a city, fresh air was fresh air, and he probably wouldn’t be able to enjoy the cool temperature for much longer in the day. He even got to pass by a cute dog being walked by one of those older guys who get up way too early in the morning.

Opening the door up to their apartment, Dustin was greeted by the sight of one Orange Cassidy, sitting at the table and staring down into what appeared to be a now empty mug of coffee. Morning light from the window hit him in just the right way so his freshly combed blond hair appeared to have a slight glow.

Orange looked up at the sound of the door closing, a mild amount of surprise on his face from seeing his roommate up so early and seemingly back from going to Wawa, if the plastic bag was any indication.

“Uh hey man,” Dustin said as he walked toward him and placed the bag on the table, “got you a sandwich.”

“Thanks.” The small, appreciative smile on Orange’s face made the corners of his tired eyes turn up slightly and Dustin couldn’t help but feel, uh, _something_ at causing that. Internally, he wished he would just stop feeling things.

“Cool, cool. Well, seeeeya,” Dustin blurted as he suddenly pivoted toward the direction of his bedroom and took a step.

“Dustin,” Orange bluntly called out.

He stopped moving.

“Greg’s been blowing up my phone all morning. You’re retiring?”

Dustin brought his feet back together, but didn’t turn to face Orange again. “Yeah.”

Orange paused before simply replying with one word. “Okay.”

Dustin turned back around toward him. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Yep,” he paused again, frowning, “I don’t… _want_ you to retire but, it’s your decision. Greg’s gonna have a whole lot of questions for you anyway.”

Shit, yeah. He may have done it on purpose, but Dustin felt a bit bad now dumping that on Greg when he was halfway across the world and subsequently acting like his phone stopped existing. At the same time, he _really_ did not want to have that conversation.

Dustin nodded and ambled back over toward his room, not knowing what else to say.

Orange sighed at the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Dandelions" by Rav, which in general heavily inspired this chapter. Go listen to it!
> 
> Also a few days ago when I was finishing up this chapter I realized, oh shit, there's another fic that just came out that includes someone giving a sandwich to Orange in the morning. I swear I did not steal that idea lmao but anyway go read that one too it's very good ("to love and be loved" by dahdeemohn). Also also I've never been to Wawa all I know is that everyone on the East Coast acts like it's the best grocery/convenience store ever & it has great sandwiches.


	3. Chapter 3

“Yes, this is real, I’m retiring,” Dustin answered, exasperated.

“Are you sure this isn’t just like, an impulse decision?”

“Yes, Greg, I’m sure! That’s all there is to it!”

“Dustin, _please_ —”

“Why the fuck do you care so much anyway, Greg? You’re the one who ruined my hardly existent career in the first place!”

There was a pause over the phone, and Dustin felt immediately guilty. Joking about it was one thing, but actually accusing his best friend that this was his fault made his stomach twist.

“Dustin… don’t, don’t say that man.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know that’s not true. I’m sorry.”

“I just wanna know that you’re okay.”

Dustin was about to assure that yes, he was definitely okay, but even he had to admit that not-being-okay was largely why he was doing this. “I… listen, I thought about it, and this is just what’s best for me,” he strung together.

“Okay, just… no matter what I’ll still be your friend, okay?” He sounded painfully sincere, but Dustin doubted that they wouldn’t drift apart once all of this was over.

“Okay,” Dustin quietly replied into the phone.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Alright, um, I’ll try to talk to you later or something. I’m sure there’s a lot of things you need to do.” There probably wouldn’t be another phone call.

“Yeah. Talk to you later.” Dustin lowered the phone from his ear and hit the end call button.

He knew what would probably happen going into the call, but Dustin still didn’t quite understand why Greg cared so much, outside of the fact they were tag team partners and made money together. They had only known each other for about two years now, after all. At the same time, it felt like they had been friends their entire lives.

Well, time to put this whole retirement tour thing together.

* * *

A week and some days passed and Dustin was waiting for Orange to pick him up from the airport. The previous day, he had just finished up his last booked date for an indie promotion that was doing shows on baseball fields for some reason. It wasn’t too bad, all things considered. He’s definitely wrestled in shittier places for shittier people. Still didn’t win a single time though. He hadn’t exactly been in a winning mood lately, to be fair.

Greg was back from Japan now, and not long after the retirement announcement they were able to get a booking that fit between his schedule in a couple weeks, presumably their last match as Best Friends. It was a weird thought.

Chuck Taylor probably wouldn’t be officially retired for a while though. Chikara still wanted him for the rest of their season, and some other indies wanted to make some money off him before he left for good.

As he sat next to his bags waiting, he fought the urge to go scrolling through Twitter or some other app on his phone. It wasn’t exactly fun being hounded by people telling him not to retire or claiming that it wasn’t real. Didn’t help that Greg had literally asked people to talk him out of retiring. _Thanks, Greg._ It pissed him off, but underneath that a little part of him found it, well, kind of sweet. Gross. Why did people have to care about this shit? About him? His friends caring was one thing, why did random wrestling fans have to care? He was just another shitty indie guy and yet he was _still_ letting people who weren’t his parents down. Great.

He kept his phone clutched in his hand, still waiting for the text from Orange, refusing to look at anything on it besides the time. He tried to focus on the random passersby of the airport. People in business suits who had important business shit to go to. A young family visiting relatives for the summer, their daughter pulling a bright pink Barbie suitcase behind her. A couple reuniting, holding each other in a tight embrace before walking toward the doors, hands intertwined.

Goddamnit, all these people had shit going on in their lives for them; meanwhile, he was here waiting to go home from a wrestling match he did on a baseball field.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

_**Little Red Hunk** _   
**__** _hey i’m outside._


End file.
